Atlas lounged back in his armchair, eyes fixed on Marcus Flint as he paced in relentless circles, his heavy boots scuffing the stone floor. His other teammates sat around them, waiting for the Captain's final words. But Marcus wasn't anywhere near his normal state of mind — though even on a good day, his thoughts didn't travel far beyond brawn and bluster.

"Potter is the new Seeker. You're sure of it, Miles?" Atlas asked, once he had done enough of waiting. If Marcus couldn't sort out this mess, then he would.

"Absolutely," Miles Bletchley, their Keeper, said. "I did just as you said. Used polyjuice and sneaked in their training to get a look at the new faces. Bell, Spinnet and Potter."

Spinnet didn't worry him the slightest. She was a good Chaser, it was true, but she wasn't any sort of miracle talent that could save Gryffindor. He knew nothing about Bell, though. They'd need to keep an close eye on her. Now if Potter was half as good as Miles was claiming, he had the potential to give them a lot of trouble.

"Higgs," Atlas called, giving the boy a startle. There was no one else in the team he liked to mess with more — the boy was afraid of his own shadow. "You said your cousin saw old-McGonagall talking to him?"

Terence Higgs nodded emphatically, not daring to say a world.

"Ajax Mulciber was the best beater we had in the try-outs, we'll keep him. As for the second beater, we need someone to get into Potter. Someone that can follow and bother him all game."

Marcus looked at him, "Who do you have in mind?"

"Malfoy."

"Your cousin?" Miles said incredulously. "Isn't he this tall? He's not built for a beater."

"We don't need brute strength against Potter," Atlas said, as if it was obvious. "What we need is someone who can unsettle him — on and off the pitch. I want Potter to crack."

Adrian Pucey had a frown in his face. "Why?"

"Because the Seeker is a mental position. You get him to not think straight and he won't be a problem."

"Does Malfoy even fly well?" Miles asked. "He'll need to keep up with a Nimbus 2000."

"Don't worry about my cousin," Atlas said. "I can assure you all he'll be of great value in our team."

Marcus held him from his arm, "Are you certain about this?"

"Have I ever lost before, Marcus?"

Marcus let go of him, the look of confidence slowly growing back to him. "Should I talk to Snape?"

"No need — I'll go myself."

Having nothing more to discuss, the emergency meeting ended.

At the Library, Atlas continued the research he had started on his first day back in Hogwarts. To learn more about his father: Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Atlas knew much about him, of course. His mother, Bellatrix, had made sure he knew of every single achievement the Dark Lord had ever reached. All the bargains he had made with the most ancient families in Great Britain, all the deals he had made with filthy creatures, all of his amazing duels and even more so about all of his killings and tortures. There was nothing that would please his mother more than telling him — or anyone, for the matter — about her great Dark Lord

What his mother didn't seem to understand whenever Atlas asked about his father, however, was that he already knew all about the Dark Lord, he wanted to know about the man Tom M. Riddle.

Because, no matter how hard Atlas tried, he couldn't come up with a reason as to how a half-blood, son of a muggle, had been able to rise among the purebloods.

He had never had the courage to ask his mother about it, though.

Sometimes he even wondered if she knew or simply had chosen to ignore the fact. More often than not she'd talk about the filthy half-bloods as if he and his father weren't part of them.

Atlas carefully unfolded the old Daily Prophet copy dated 14th of July of 1942 — it had taken him nearly a month and many crystallised pineapples to convince Madam Pince to let him access the old papers.

Tom Riddle Honoured for Heroic Capture of Hogwarts Attacker

The recent resolution of a series of distressing attacks at Hogwarts has brought a sense of relief to the entire school community. The incidents, which culminated in the tragic death of a student, Myrtle Warren, have now been conclusively linked to a perpetrator identified as Rubeus Hagrid, a half-giant that was attending his third year.

The decisive breakthrough in this troubling case was achieved by Tom M. Riddle, a fifth-year student of Slytherin House. In acknowledgment of his remarkable contributions, Headmaster Armando Dippet has conferred upon Riddle the Special Award for Services to the School.

"Tom Riddle's commitment to uncovering the truth, even in the face of danger, is a testament to his character and dedication," Headmaster Dippet declared in his official statement. "His actions have not only brought justice but have also restored Hogwarts's security and stability."

Riddle, known for his exemplary academic record and modest demeanour, expressed his gratitude for the honour, stating, "There's nothing that pleases me more than assuring Hogwarts will continue working for another year. My only aim was to ensure the school remained working."

Rubeus Hagrid, who has been implicated in harbouring an Acromantula within the school grounds, has been placed under investigation. If found guilty, he shall be expelled and have his wand snapped.

The Daily Prophet will continue to provide updates as further details of this case are revealed.

Atlas chuckled at the paper — this was the most ridiculous story he had ever seen.

How could anyone believe Rubeus Hagrid killed someone?

"Are those old Daily Prophets?" a bossy female voice came from behind him.

It belonged to a young girl dressed in Gryffindor's robes, with bushy hair and two large front teeth. Atlas had already seen her before in the Library. Actually, it was quite impossible to stay in the Library and not stumble upon her. She was always there with a pile of books by her side, devouring them as if nothing could please her more.

"Indeed."

"How did you get them?" she said, trying to grab one from the old pile of Daily Prophets that were in his desk, but Atlas pushed them away from her. "I just want to have a look. You don't own them."

"I don't, but they are under my responsibility," Atlas said. "If you want to have a look at them, go bother Madam Pince."

"She doesn't like me."

"I wonder why that might be," Atlas said and was surprised to see the girl didn't seem to understand it.

"You're Lestrange, aren't you?"

Technically, no he was not. He was either a Black or a Riddle. But it wouldn't do good for his married mother to have a son named after another man, would it? Even if Rodolphus couldn't have kids of his own, it wasn't the sort of thing you'd talk about.

"Atlas Lestrange," Atlas confirmed. "And you are?"

The girl offered him her hand, which he shook. "Hermione Granger."

"Don't you think you've got too many books over there, Miss Granger? You can only read one at a time, you know."

"I'm a muggleborn — there's too much to catch up on."

Atlas forced a smile. "I can only imagine."

"Do you know what's apparition? I was reading Hogwarts, a History and I…"

Atlas knew not how long he had spent talking to the girl, but it sure felt like an eternity.

For her, it didn't matter that he was in fifth-year and had lived his entire life in the Wizarding World: she felt the need to talk and explain everything to him. She was completely obsessed with knowledge — it was no wonder nobody in her year seemed to want her company. Yet, Atlas persevered and heard everything she had to say no matter how obviously trivial it was, because the more she talked the more an idea echoed in his mind.

They'd get along tremendously, he was sure of that.

On the following day, the first Hogsmeade's trip happened and Atlas and Felix Rosier had been the first Prefects selected to watch out for the students. And they were certainly doing a splendid job from the inside of Hog's Head, while enjoying a few drinks.

"Wait, so you're telling me your Uncle will give Slytherin new brooms?"

Atlas smiled. "No, I'm telling you he'll give us six new Nimbus 2000. I called him yesterday from Snape's office."

"Merlin," Felix said, taking another sip of his cup. "How filthy rich are you people?"

"The Malfoys? As rich as one can get. The Lestranges? Not as rich as them."

"It must be incredible to not have to worry," Felix said. "We Rosiers have enough to live. But not having to work? Not worrying about getting a good job at the Ministry? It'd be my dream!"

"It sure has its perks," Atlas said. "Another round?"

"You paying?"

Atlas snorted. "Sure."

"A.B. another one please!"

Atlas knew not how many rounds and rounds Felix had ordered, but by the time they had left the Hog's Head, neither of them were walking very straight. Though, Felix Rosier was clearly in a much worse state after having drank a few doses of Firewhisky.

"So," Felix began, tripping as he walked, "what's this special mission you got this year? Father sent me a letter to help you with whatever you need — as if you'd ever need my help for anything."

"I can't say."

"Oh, c'mon, Atlas," Felix said, pushing him lightly, "I'm your cousin. Not your favourite one, I know, but I am one. That has to count for something."

Atlas shrugged. "I can't say."

"C'moooon," Felix insisted, shaking his shoulder. "I took the blame for that one time you made Uncle Edmund a balloon on gran-aunt Druella's seventh-seven birthday."

"I never asked you to," Atlas said. "And you already used this excuse at least a dozen times to make me help you."

Felix passed one arm over his shoulder, almost making them both fall. "Who's counting? We're family!"

"Many and many times removed cousins."

"Yes!" Felix said, nodding emphatically. "Now will you tell me?"

"No."

After a quick stop at Zonko's to reload their stock of Stink Pellets and Muttering Ears — the best way to get through Professor Binns classes — they went to Honeydukes. As Atlas was about to enter the shop, however, he felt a sudden bump on his chest, but saw nothing around if not...

"Do you see the footsteps over there?"

Felix looked, blinking way too many times as if trying to focus. "It looks like footsteps?"

"How thick can you be? There's no one there, Felix," Atlas said, bumping in the back of his cousin's head. "How can there be footsteps if there's no one standing there?"

"Oh."

Atlas followed the footsteps from far away, occasionally stopping to pretend to look at a shop's window or to let Felix vomit after every few steps. The trail led straight to the Shrieking Shack.

"It must be an invisibility cloak," Atlas said, watching as the shack's door opened and closed itself.

"Or a glamour."

Atlas stared at him, still trying to understand how someone like Felix Rosier had ever been made a Prefect. Then again, names still carried weight — most times more than merit.

"Only if it's Dumbledore to cast one this unnoticeable."

Felix stared at him with the most unwilling face. "You'll make me go inside, won't you?"

"Yes."

"But it's haunted."

"Really?" Atlas stared at him. "You literally live in a castle filled with ghosts."

"Not the bad ones, though."

Without giving it a second thought, Atlas walked towards the shack, Felix complaining right behind him. At the shack's old window, through the thin layer of cloth that was covering it, Atlas could see a few young boys sitting at the shack's floor while eating candies.

A slow smile curled at Atlas's lips; this was almost too perfect.

The universe had just handed him the biggest prize he could have gotten today on a silver platter.

"It's Potter."

Felix, still swaying slightly, blinked at him in a daze and asked, "You sure?"

"Yeah, go get Snape," Atlas commended, his eyes never leaving the window. "He'll want to see this for himself."

Felix Rosier obeyed without giving it a second thought.

Atlas pulled out his wand, and with a single move, the door flew open as he stepped inside the Shrieking Shack. In a heartbeat, the boys were suspended in midair, like helpless marionettes, their mouths still stuffed with candy.

"Well, well," Atlas drawled mockingly, his gaze swept over them, lingering just long enough to startle their fear. "Look what I've got here: Potter, Weasley, Irish, and...I don't know you. Fatboy?"

"Let us go!" William Potter demanded, shaking himself in an attempt to break the jinx.

"Why would I?" Atlas said softly, as he plucked a Chocolate Frog from the floor and savoured the bite. Nearby there were also some liquorice wands and acid pops. "I just got here for the party. Now, Irish, keep your hands up or I'll have to cuff you."

Of course, the Irish boy didn't listen to him and kept trying to catch his wand from the floor. With a jet of green light, Atlas placed him higher in the air, this time with his hands very stretched over his head.

"So," Atlas began, grabbing an old-looking cloak from the floor. "This is how you were hiding? An invisibility cloak?"

"Don't touch it!"

"Careful now, Potter," Atlas's voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "One more word, and you'll wish you'd kept that foolish mouth shut."

"You filthy Death Eater!"

Atlas's smile widened: was this supposed to be an insult?

With a lazy flick of his wand, Potter's body began to spin violently, faster and faster until his limbs flailed uselessly, his face pale and contorted with nausea.

"Stop it!" Ron Weasley screamed, trying to get into Atlas's direction. "Stop!"

"He's going to puke! Stop!" said the blonde fat boy.

"As you wish."

With a sharp flick, Atlas hurled Potter into the wall with a sickening crack, the sound reverberating through the shack. The thud had been strangely satisfying.

Just for the fun of their despair, Atlas released the boys, who ran straight in Potter's aid, not even remembering their wands that were on the floor. Atlas bent down, casually collecting their wands as if picking up discarded rubbish.

He gave another look at the cloak laying on the floor. It was different from the ones he had seen before — it actually seemed to have some quality in it. The fabric was ancient as well, not the kind you'd expect from a modern invisibility cloak.

There was no way he'd let the boys walk away with it.

Using the Doubling Charm, Atlas made a riff-raff copy of the cloak and placed it back on the floor, storing the original safely in his bag.

Atlas slowly walked where the boys were trying to make William Potter get up, asking from over their shoulders, "So. How is he?"

"Look what you've done to him," Weasley said, his face as red as his hair, getting up from the floor and pushing Atlas with all the force he had. Atlas barely moved tough. "We'll go to the Headmaster and—"

"Relax, Weasley," Atlas said smoothly, a conjured armchair appearing with a flick of his wrist, in which he sat down eating one liquorice wand he had stolen from the floor. "The authorities are already on their way."

The Irish frowned, asking as if he hadn't heard correctly, "Authorities?"

"Professor Snape, of course."

Their eyes went wide and their faces were as pale as a ghost.

"What?" Atlas asked cynically. "I thought you'd all want the presence of a Professor here. You know how we, Prefects, are. Sometimes we let things go over our heads."

"Just let us go, please," Potter said, the hand he had on the back of his head had a little blood over it. "We'll tell no one what you did."

"What I did?"

"Yeah, you cursed us for no reason, threw me—"

Atlas laughed. "Oh, Potter, that's not what happened. Don't you remember? You must have hit your head too hard. But I'll tell you what happened: I was minding my own business, when I saw a group of reckless first-years in a place they are not allowed; I tried talking to you but you tried cursing me—"

"That's a lie!"

"Wanna see who Snape's going to believe, Irish?"

Atlas enjoyed watching as they argued with him, trying to make him feel guilty, but all he did was smile as the despair grew in the young boys. They had even tried to escape through a secret passage, but Atlas placed them back in the air before they could reach the next room. And the Scouring Charm had been enough to mutter their screams.

When Snape finally arrived, his eyes gleamed as though he'd just won the lottery.

"Mr Lestrange," Professor Snape greeted and Atlas inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. "What do we have here?"

"Four rascals I caught trespassing Hogwarts grounds without authorization," Atlas said, smirking as he saw Potter's despair when he noticed the cloak in Atlas' hand. "They used this cloak to avoid the eyes, but forgot to hide their feet."

Atlas had never thought Snape was capable of more than disgust or rage, but today, the man looked like he'd just stepped into heaven.

"Have you already signed them the punishment?"

"No," Atlas said. "I thought it'd be wise to wait for you."

"You did well, Mr Lestrange," Snape said and, for the first time in his entire life, Atlas actually felt like Snape meant it and wasn't doing it just out of fear of his parents. "Ten points to Slytherin for your good work and ten more for your quick thinking. Now, you may leave, I'll take it from here."

"Thank you."

By night time, everyone in Hogwarts had heard about the four first-years that had been caught in Hogsmeade and had lost twenty-five points each for Gryffindor. Rumours also claimed Professor Snape had asked for their expulsion and, once it was denied by the Headmaster, had asked for Potter's permanent ban from the Quidditch team. However, according to the gossip, Professor McGonagall and Professor Lupin had been able to negotiate a few more detentions instead.

"Look at them," Nikolai Dolohov said, a mean look on his face as he watched the Gryffindor table, where the four first-years were sitting at the very end of the table, completely segregated from the rest of the house. "Who'd have guessed it'd only take a month for Potter to make everyone hate him."

Ajax Mulciber snorted. "He got lucky, if it was anyone else I'm sure the person would be kicked out."

"There's still time," Nikolai said. "He's on close watch now, any step out of the line and he'll be gone."

"As if they'd ever kick out their little saviour," Atlas said, shaking his head with the idea. Sometimes he felt as if he was surrounded by idiots. "At least, Potter will sit detention with Snape until the end of the year. That's enough punishment."

"How do you know that?" Ajax asked.

"The Baron told me," Atlas said. Many feared the Slytherin ghost, but Atlas had always thought he was the most interesting person to talk to in the entire castle. "Speaking about Potter, weren't you going to give him a welcome gift?"

Nikolai sighed, saying, "We tried, but the elves didn't really want to help us."

"You still want to?"

Ajax looked surprisingly hopeful. "Will you help?"

"Of course not," Atlas said, getting another bite of the treacle tart on his plate. "But I've heard Potter is really into sweets, his mother sends him a pack every few weeks, you know. Chocolate frogs I believe I saw in it the last time. Don't you think his mother might want to give him something to cheer him up after such a scandal?"

Although Ajax still looked confused, Nikolai had his eyes shining with the prospect.

Atlas only smiled — this was truly being a good year.

- Author's Notes -

About Atlas:

Atlas is, objectively, a bad person—he's an egocentric idiot. When I started developing his character, I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted to keep from Harry Potter and what needed to change, especially because Atlas grew up in a completely different environment.

What did I decide to keep from Harry? His sense of justice (though what "justice" means to Atlas is a whole other story), his bravery, his disregard for rules, his cheekiness (although I'm not quite skilled enough in English yet to nail the perfect comebacks), his tendency to keep his feelings to himself, and his deep care for the people he loves, etc.

Now, where does his darker side come from? I see it like this: Harry's strong moral code was shaped by a life of injustice—being mistreated by the Dursleys and bullied by Dudley. In contrast, Atlas was raised by Bellatrix Lestrange, and his uncle was Lucius Malfoy. He grew up believing in what they believed. And James Potter was no saint in his youth either, he had a mean , this "Harry" is more cruel and manipulative — but to me, there's still a trace of James hidden in him (and more of it will show over time).

So, no. Atlas isn't putting on an act.

That's the fun of his character: watching his development as he evolves (or not).

Next Chapter: Coming next week.

Thanks for the comments!